


Chamomile Tea and Chocolate Cake

by belovedbey



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Hurt Newt Scamander, M/M, Newt Scamander Needs a Hug, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, So Does Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 10:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17181677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedbey/pseuds/belovedbey
Summary: A cute little one-shot I wrote on a whim.





	Chamomile Tea and Chocolate Cake

Percival Graves bustled down the main hallway of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of MACUSA, jaw ticking irritably at the bustle of workers around him that seemed to be doing no good. The memo airplanes that circled around the crown of his head did nothing to improve this mood; on the contrary, he had to restrain the urge to raise a hand and rip all of them to shreds even though he knew they were probably important. None of his Aurors dare made eye contact with him, instead hurriedly busying themselves with whatever they had near them so as not to face their boss’s wrath. Minding his own business and thinking about a meeting that he had to attend at noon with President Picquery, he was shocked to find himself colliding with a figure taller than him, only catching sight of the peacock blue overcoat the man was wearing before their collision. Percival thanked the lord that he hadn’t been nursing his usual cup of coffee, for the hot beverage would’ve been spilled over the both of them, burning their skin and staining their clothes. “Do watch where you’re going. You’re lucky I don’t have anything important on me right now!” 

The man flinched away, his body folding in on itself as he stumbled backwards. “I’m t-terribly sorry,” was his sorry excuse of an apology and he made to move around the Director, only to be stopped by a hand tightly gripping his right forearm.

Graves made to reprimand the redhead further, only for him to hear the man sniff in a way that was most likely meant to be discrete. The way his head was turned down so he couldn’t see his face and the way his shoulders seemed to tremble proved his suspicions that this stranger he bumped into was crying. Brows furrowing with confusion—definitely not concern—he loosened his grip on the man’s arm but didn’t let go. “Are you alright, sir?”

“I-I’m fine,” he stuttered while attempting to escape again, but Graves didn’t relent and instead pulled him closer.

“Come to my office.” The man didn’t look content at the Director’s words, but he stiffly nodded at the words for they seemed more like an order than a proposition. Splaying is hand on the middle of the man’s back, Graves turned him around and guided him onward, ignoring the pitying glances that his workers seemed to be giving the man at his side. Was he really that intimidating? The way the redhead looked like he wanted to run away confirmed that yes, he was that intimidating. When they were only a few paces away from Graves’ office, a woman with bobbed black hair and a panicked expression in her shiny eyes strode up to them and planted herself in front of his office door.

“Director Graves, I apologise on behalf of Mr. Scamander’s behaviour. I can deal with him; I know you don’t have the time to deal with things like this.” Tina’s words were half-ridiculing, half-concerned, but Graves wasn’t going to give up that easily, especially after hearing the man’s surname. He had befriended a certain Theseus Scamander whilst fighting in the war, a dark-haired fellow that often spoke of his younger brother, who Graves now realised stood beside him in an emotional mess. Not only was this Mr. Scamander his friend’s brother, but he was the one to realise that someone was impersonating him even though he’d never met him before. His own Aurors never even realised that their Director had been replaced by a homicidal mad-man.

 

“Oh, that will be unnecessary, Miss Goldstein. I’d actually like to speak with Mr. Scamander.” Tina opened her mouth as if to argue with him, but the narrowing of his eyes made her shut it and look down.

“Alright,” she complied, moving forward so she could look Scamander in the eyes. “Come and find me after, okay?” He didn’t respond verbally, just nodding his head and watching as she begrudgingly walked away to resume working at her desk. As Graves turned the knob for the door and pushed it open, he herded the man in through it, hurrying in after him and shutting it behind him. The inside of his office was noticeably quiet compared to the department outside and Graves appreciated this, but he remembered his issue at hand when Mr. Scamander’s sniffs became more audible in the uncrowded atmosphere.

“Please sit down, Mr. Scamander. Would you like anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?” All he got in response was a shake of the head, the fringe of his hair that hung over his eyes swinging with the motion. Graves found himself longing to hear the man’s voice and he couldn’t explain the urge to engulf the man in a tight hug. Unbuttoning the buttons on his trench coat and shrugging it off his shoulders, he draped it over the back of the chair behind his desk before moving over to the couch on which his company was sat and tentatively sat next to him. “What’s got you upset?”

“I... it’s stupid. I d-didn’t wish to d-drag you into my problems.” 

“What’s your name?” Shocked at the sudden change of topic, the man had to recollect himself before answering.

“Newt... My name is Newt.”

“Well Newt, I’m feeling concern for you and that’s something I hardly feel for anyone. I’d really like to help you through whatever it is you’re going through.” Astonished, Newt met his gaze and Graves felt his breath get stuck in his throat at the ocean blue colour, heart aching at the redness that rimmed them. He nearly found it amusing at how shocked Newt was. “Contrary to popular belief Newt, I do have a heart.”

“I... I wasn’t trying to make it seem like you...”

“You worry too much. Why are you upset?” He tried again, inching a bit closer and leaning his elbows on the tops of his knees.

“One of my creatures... died this morning, under my care. I should have been there to take care of him. He was only a little mooncalf and I should’ve known better than to just leave him there on his own and...” Before Newt could spiral into a full-out breakdown, Graves hushed him with a conjured cup of warm chamomile tea.

“Th-thank you,” he muttered, taking the cup from Graves’ hands, lifting the rim of it to his lips to take a long sip and trying to use the warmth that travelled down his throat and settled in his stomach to calm him. After he drained the cup in mere seconds, he placed the empty cup down on the coffee table in front of the couch with a light clink. “I’m scared to face them after what I’ve let happened. The mooncalves, that is.”

“I strongly doubt that they’ll hold a grudge on you. You’re an amazing caretaker from what I’ve heard, Newt, and I have faith you. You did save my life.” 

Blushing at the sudden praise, he snapped his neck down to hide the flush that spread across his face and splotched on his neck, covering the lovely freckles that covered every inch of his milky ski- “Oh. It was—“

“Don’t you dare say nothing.” At this point in time, Graves had moved close enough to take both of Newt’s hands in his own, bending his head down so he could see Newt’s face beneath his hair. “Look at me. Alive. Because of you.” Graves thought that his close proximity would’ve made Newt cower, but he seemed to relax into his gaze, shoulders and neck settling. The man’s face was magnetic, he thought as his face moved closer to Newt’s without any conscious decision to do so. When there faces were inches part, Newt furiously blushing and Graves staring intensely at everything—the freckles, the nervous expression in his eyes, the pink tint of his skin, the way he was anxiously biting at his bottom lip— he whispered, asking the question of all questions. “Can I kiss you?” Thinking he’d get a nod of the head or a timid yes, he nearly jumped when a pair of lips was suddenly against his own in a soft caress, but his eyes closed from their shock and he leaned into the kiss. One touch-starved and the other starved emotionally, they found each other and granted what the other desired. Graves tangled his fingers into the auburn locks he so wished to feel earlier and tugged, emitting a whine from Newt that lost its way somewhere in Graves’ mouth. The older man forced the younger into a laying position on the couch so that he could situate himself above his form, running his hands down the front of his body in complete worship as he lightly nipped at the lip that Newt was biting just minutes before.

Finding himself lacking oxygen, Graves pulled away with a gasp but didn’t stay away too long, as the delicious expanse of Newt’s neck was completely exposed. He bent his head down and let his sinful tongue run across the skin, moving around until he could feel the body under his tense once he reached a certain spot. His lips joined the action and he sucked at the sensitive place above Newt’s collarbone, revelling in the breathy moans that were leaving Newt’s mouth at his actions. Fingers dug themselves into his own hair, messing up the slicked-back look he worked on that morning but he couldn’t care any less, instead focusing on working magic with his mouth to make the man under him unravel. After sucking and biting a trail of bruises from his collarbone to the area just below his jaw, Graves slammed his lips back onto Newt’s and savoured the taste that was him

He tasted like the chamomile tea he had served him and there was something in the distance that spoke of some type of chocolate, perhaps from a breakfast pastry or a piece of cake (Graves could admit, embarrassed, to having a more-than-generous slice of chocolate cake for breakfast on more than one occasion, but that was something he kept to himself). When he pulled away the second time, he admired the way Newt’s lips were swollen and the blush from earlier had seemed to fixate itself upon his cheeks, intent on not going away. Blue met grey and Newt gave Graves a shy smile, unable to keep the contact for long as he averted his eyes, blush darkening and sweat forming on his temples. “Do you believe me now?” Graves asked, returning the shy smile even though Newt wasn’t looking at him.

“Would you even let me say no?” In response, the Director planted a firm kiss on Newt’s lips and nuzzled himself into his neck, admiring the love-bites that now adorned the area, squeezing his arms around Newt’s middle.

“Absolutely not.” Settling into silence, Newt let his arms rest around the man laying on his chest, watching as the man seemed to relax into his embrace with heart nearly bursting at the sight. The Director wasn’t some evil dictator that barked orders to everyone, Newt later decided; he was just an angsty kitten that wasn’t getting the attention it secretly wanted. They fell asleep, Graves uncaring of the work he needed to do and Newt feeling better enough to drift off with him. 

If Madame President found them in this position later on because of Graves’ absence from her meeting, she said nothing. She was just pleased her Director finally looked happy.


End file.
